Death and the Demon
by Krystiana
Summary: A Highlander/Gargoyles short story. Methos winds up on Demona's property... and they find find they have a bit in common.


Death and the Demon  
by Krystiana Slinky {krystiana@geocities.com}  
------------  
  
Methos belongs to Rysher, in the show "Highlander: The Series." Demona belongs to   
Buena Vista Television and Disney, in the show "Gargoyles." I own NEITHER of them. Don't sue   
me... please??  
Of course I'm expecting mail about this. Send comments, constructive critism. If you   
really want to, you can flame me... but think about it... I wrote it for free, you are reading it for   
free, and you get what you paid for.   
I wrote this during summer school, after I finished my work, of course. (Hey, I sit there   
for four hours... whattya expect?!) It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and then later put into   
the computer and edited.   
Maybe someday I'll show you the original version. If you're nice.  
  
---------------------------  
  
The figure stepped out of the closing store. He wore a long coat that went down   
almost to his ankles. Collar turned up, hands in pockets, he headed down the street.  
Given the name Methos by someone even he had long forgotten, most called him   
Adam Pierson. Even though he had a reputation for being the oldest man in the world, few   
knew who he actually was, Immortal or no. He was but a myth, and he was happy with that   
fact.   
For the past two centuries, his life had pretty much been the same. Hiding, no contact   
with anyone. He wanted out of the "game" for a while. He changed his name around every ten   
years to make himself harder to track. True, it was a pain in the ass, but it was well worth it.   
He led a peaceful life for two hundred years after nearly five millenia.  
Until thirty years ago, when he sensed another Immortal nearby. He wanted to get out   
of the area, but instinct made him stay for some reason. Besides, after all that time, who could   
possibly know he was the mythical Methos?  
He spotted the Immortal. Duncan MacLeod... he had heard about him and his boy   
scout morals. Someone he could admire for such a young one. Then he noticed someone   
watching the same person he was watching...  
He followed the watching person for a few days, until he finally went to a meeting. A   
society of mortals keeping tabs on the Immortals?! After watching the Watchers for a few   
more years, he was amused to find that they had a few people working on the "Methos   
Chronicle." But when he found out they had traced him to only five names ago, he realised how   
serious it was. If they found him, they could lead other Immortals right to him!   
Managing to sneak into the Watcher society twenty years later, he lead them farther   
and farther away from "Methos."  
Until his world was nearly shattered when Kalas decided to search for a myth.  
But perhaps that near shattering did him some good. He made new allies, and he   
finally realised you couldn't escape the game.   
He wandered the streets this night, this city. Manhattan. It certainly ranked up in the   
top three cities (if you looked past the crime) after five thousand years, beaten only by Paris   
and Rome.  
He walked down an old brownhouse street, absently noting the names on the   
mailboxes. Johnson. Smith. Henry. Destine...  
What was that?  
An odd prickling sensation in the back of his head made chills go down his spine. It was   
like sensing an Immortal, but more intense, or perhaps sensing a dozen Immortals.  
He stopped in front of the Destine household, looking at the darkened windows. The   
gate was locked, but he had learned a thing or two about picking locks. Within seconds, he   
was in.   
  
* * *  
  
Demona paused from her work and looked up. She had felt this sensation before, and   
it was only when he was near.   
With a snarl, she grabbed her laser and burst outside. Eyes like twin lasers, she   
constantly looked into the shadows, where he would most likely be hiding.  
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her laser towards the   
person. Most of him hidden, all she saw were a pair of legs, and a long coat. Like the coat that   
he had taken to wearing...  
"Drop your weapon!" she snarled. A sword came out of the darkness and landed at her   
feet.   
"Is that _all_ of it?" she demanded suspiciously. She heard an exasperated sigh, then a   
long dagger followed the sword.   
"Come out of hiding, MacBeth!" she commanded.  
"Do I look like a Shakesperian character?" asked an unfamiliar voice. The man stepped   
into the light.   
Demona hissed. "Who are you, and what are you doing on my property?"  
"Tresspassing, what does it look like?" he answered sarcastically.   
"And you just happened to be carrying a sword and dagger around."  
"Doesn't everybody?" the man said, inspecting his nails. He glanced up. "May I ask you a   
question?"  
"Go ahead."  
"What in GOD'S NAME are you?" His voice was no longer calm, but it wasn't strained.   
Recieving no answer, he went on. "I mean, you've got wings, a tail, and just a _slight_ blue-  
green tint to your skin. That's not something an ordinary human has."  
Demona's eyes flashed scarlet. "Maybe because I'm not human."  
The man sighed again. "And I thought I had seen it all," he muttered. He looked straight   
into her blazing eyes. "So what are you, then?"  
Demona hesitated. There was something about this man... It was _him_ that set off   
her "MacBeth" sense; she was sure of it. "I am a gargoyle."  
The man's eyes widened. "B-but that gargoyles died out centuries ago!"   
Demona smirked, despite herself. "Not quite." Then she realised exactly what he had   
said. "You know about us?"  
"Yes, I had heard a great deal. But I never got the chance to meet one..."   
Demona stared. "If we "died out," how would you get the chance?"  
The man smiled crookedly. "I'm older than I look."  
Demona picked up the fallem sword and dagger and gestured to the door with the   
barrel of her laser. "Won't you come in?"  
"Do I have a choice?"  
"No."  
The man shrugged, acting clan, considering he was at gunpoint by a woman with   
wings.  
  
* * *  
  
Methos could have easily let her shoot him, but he wanted to find out more about this   
creature. Besides, she would probably bury him before he got the chance to wake up. He   
didn't enjoy being buried "alive."   
"Do you have a name?" he asked casually.  
"Demona."  
"How qu-" He stopped, thinking better of his words. "Never mind."  
"And what do you go by?"  
"At the moment, Adam Pierson."  
"At the moment?"  
"The last name changes frequently."  
"But your real name is Adam?"  
"No. But I've grown attached to it. It's actually more of a joke." He paused and smiled.   
"It's just something I've been using lately."  
"Then what is your real name?"  
"Something older than you."  
The gargoyle named Demona uttered a low growl. "I'm older than I look, as well."  
Methos smiled. "Oh? How old?"  
Demona's face twisted into a grin. "It's not polite to ask a woman that."  
"And it's not polite to push someone for their name."  
Demona considered this. "I'll tell you my age if you tell me your name."  
"Now that doesn't seem like a fair trade," Methos said. He thought for a moment. "If   
you give me my sword and dagger, I'll tell you."   
Demona laughed. "I'm not that stupid."  
  
* * *  
  
This was indeed, by far, the oddest human Demona had ever met. Many tried to   
compromise for their lives, or perhaps it was more like pleading for their sanity.   
But this one, simply asking for a meager sword and dagger in exchange for his name.  
Curiousity was getting to her. It finally got the better of her and she turned back   
towards him. "All right. I'll give you your weapons, if you give me your name." Inside, a small   
voice was saying "What the hell are you doing?!"  
But she didn't stop herself. She handed him the dagger, then looked at the sword.   
"Why do you carry this, human?"  
The man's face seemed to sink. "It's a... career thing."  
Demona stared at him questionly, then handed him the sword. "Now... what is your   
name?"  
The man stared at the hilt of his sword before answering. "Methos."  
Demona bit her lip. This man was either insane, or VERY foreign. He didn't sound TOO   
foreign... just with a slight British accent. But he didn't act too insane...  
She relised Methos was now looking around at the many objects and paintings that   
cluttered her walls. He paused when he came to a certain painting. "Who is this?" he asked.  
Demona's expression darkened. "An old friend." She paused, then sighed. "An old   
enemy." Why did he have to point out that picture of MacBeth?  
A long sigh came from the tresspasser. She glanced at him. "Is something wrong?"  
Methos spoke without looking at her. "I'm just so... tired."  
"Tired?"  
"Of living. Of killing."  
"Of fighting," Demona added, remembering her constant struggle with the humans.  
Methos turned to her, bitterness touching his eyes. "Perhaps you do understand."  
It was Demona's turn to sigh. "After one thousand years..."  
"Five thousand years..."   
"Trying to figure out who to trust-"  
"And who to kill."  
"To just... escape!"  
"Escape my past." Methos winced, thinking of the thousands of people he killed, riding   
on his white horse, masquerading as "Death."  
"Face what I've done-"  
"-and live without guilt."  
"Remembering what happened to those who crossed me-"  
"-and come to terms with where I belong."  
"Not really knowing where I belong."  
The two looked at each other for several long moments. Methos reached for her,   
lightly brushing the side of her face. Demona looked into his eyes, searching. She felt like she   
was falling straight down...  
Demona suddenly snapped him towards her, their faces close. If Methos was startled,   
he didn't show it. Instead, he kissed her.   
They both fell into the kiss. Demona's hand began running through his already touseled   
hair. Methos stroked the area between her back and wings, right where they connected. Her   
wings quivered and she let out a small growl from the back of the throat, like she was...   
purring?!  
His sword dropped to the ground with a clatter, along with her laser. They drew apart   
for a brief moment, then Methos began caressing her face again. Demona's eyes closed to   
slits, leaning into his touch.   
Then, once again, the oldest man, once a ruthless Horseman, and the oldest gargoyle,   
once and STILL called a demon, kissed again.  
Methos's eyes suddenly snapped open. ~What am I doing?!~ he thought. He drew   
away. "I-I need to leave," he stuttered, gathering his wits.   
Demona nodded silently. "I think it would be best."  
  
* * *  
  
Methos tucked his weapons away before opening the gate. The gate squeeked once   
more, and he paused, turning to looked at the house.   
~I can't believe how close I came to finding someone who understood me!~ he thought,   
amazed at himself. He shook his head, remembering the night. He finally walked away, the   
strange mental buzz of many Immortals leaving him.   
  
* * *  
  
Demona simply stood where he had left her until the feeling of "MacBeth's" presence   
had left her.  
"What an odd human..." she mused out loud. She began walking into the other room,   
smiling to herself, knowing she would never forget that... Methos.  
Wait a minute...  
Did he say five THOUSAND years?!  
  
An End   
  
--------  
  
August 30th, 11:47 PM (no, not the date of the writing, just the date of me and my thoughts)  
  
Uh-oh... the creativity demon is at it again. Krys has just been struck with the brilliant plan of   
Highlander/Gargoyles crossovers... BEWARE, ALL YE WHO READ THIS!! The mind is up to no   
good...   
  
---  
  
The second posting of the complete list of my definite works, since I forgot a story on my last   
posting:  
  
Future Tense, Part V: Loving the Enemy: 2026 AD: Can Brooklyn and Demona's relationship   
fall through?  
  
AU: Long Way to Morning: Sequel to my version of Temptation. Hudson and Goliath go after   
Demona... while Brooklyn goes after Elisa.   
  
Faith at Heart: Brooklyn is losing faith, and Alex has an interesting way of getting it back..  
  
Time: Elisa gets turned into a gargoyle and for once... HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH GOLIATH!!   
Sent back in time, the favorite femme fatale (say that three times fast) finds out why Demona   
hates humans so much.  
  
On This Joyous Day: Welcome to Krystiana's lifetime... and the future of the Manhattan clan.   
  
Mind Games: One of my favorite couple will remember it. But which one?  
  
The Coven Saga, Part IV: Dark Reunion: THE SEASON FINALE!!! MURDER! SUSPENSE! And   
most of all... a FATAL CAR CRASH!! Read... if you dare...   
  
------------  
  
The season finale are where my ideas have stopped producing. (Actually, I'm turning my   
creative juices to some purely Highlander fanfic for a month or two after that.) Don't worry, it   
won't be the last one... just the last one for a while. 


End file.
